Wasted
by Leigh Adams15
Summary: Seventeen was too young to die.


**Title**: Wasted (1/1)

**Author**: Leigh

**Characters**: Cedric Diggory, Nymphadora Tonks

**Rating**: PG

**Word Count**: 781

**Summary**: Seventeen was too young to die.

**Author's Notes**: This was written for ragdoll as part of my Unemployment 2011 Drabble Meme using the prompt "frustration." I'm probably cheating just a _wee_ bit with this, but this idea just wouldn't go away! The title of this comes from the song Wasted by Cartel.

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><p>Tonks remembered the first rise of He Who Must Not Be Named. She had very early memories of her father holding her close, telling her where her "special safe place" was- a cupboard in the corner of her father's study. She was to go there if Mummy or Daddy told her to. Even at the early age of four, she knew what that meant.<p>

She was to go and hide there if the people in the silver masks came to their house.

She remembered her parents whispering to each other when they thought she sleeping. She remembered hearing the name _Bella_ spoken in hushed, frightened tones, but she didn't understand why. Bella was a lovely name; why was she meant to be afraid of someone with such a lovely name?

She remembered seeing Andromeda break down in sobs over her tea when she heard about the Bones family; her father telling her that Catherine and Patrick wouldn't be coming over to play anymore. That was the first time she _really_ understood why it was okay to be scared of He Who Must Not Be Named and his friends in the silver masks.

_That_ was the first time she understood what death was.

In time, she learned who Bella was, and why her mother spoke of her with anger in her tone. Tonks didn't have a sister, but she couldn't imagine ever hating a sister so much that she wanted to hurt her. A child's understanding, perhaps, but she _was_ a child still. The black and white of the world hadn't yet faded into shades of gray for her quite yet.

When she was eight, her mother baked a cake. For any other child, this would have been inconsequential, but Tonks remembered it vividly. It was a Battenberg cake, brightly colored with its vivid pink and yellow square, and it tasted like raspberries. When she asked her mother about the cake, Andromeda had ruffled her hair and said it was a special occasion.

She learned a new word that day: _Azkaban_.

Later, she learned why her mother had baked that cake. Bellatrix- her aunt, her mother's sister- had been sentenced to spend the rest of her life in Azkaban, the wizarding jail, for all the bad things she'd done in her silver mask. She was able to give shape to the memories of her childhood as she learned the history of the first rise of You Know Who.

And she was finally able to understand why her mother hated her sister so much.

Fourteen years later, the taste of that cake was vivid on her tongue as she stood between Mad Eye and Kingsley, her Auror robes immaculate for once. It seemed _off_ for the sun to be shining so brightly in Ottery St. Catchpole; it should have been overcast and cold, raining even. She could see the minister speaking over the grave, could see Mr. and Mrs. Diggory crying, but she didn't hear anything. The sounds of her childhood played in her head; her parents frantic whispers, bedside stories about a magical Order and the white knights who fought to protect them all from evil, her father telling her about her special, safe cupboard.

_"Just for my Dora," he whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "To keep my angel safe."_

The Ministry was full of idiots. Voldemort was back, and Fudge endangered them more and more very day he denied that. It frustrated her to no end, and she'd already beat three practice dummies to pieces in an effort to work out her rage. But at least she had Mad Eye, and others. Already, there were whispers of the Order getting back together to fight again, but this time would be different.

This time, _she_ would be a part of it.

She didn't really remember Cedic Diggory that well. He had been five years behind her in Hufflepuff, and she hadn't really paid attention to the younger students. But from what she did remember, he'd been a quiet, unassuming boy who got along with nearly everyone and had an easy smile. She wished she'd known more about him, had paid more attention while there had been time.

She knew he didn't deserve to die so young. At seventeen, life was just _really_ beginning. Cedric would never finish Hogwarts, never get a job or go to university. He would never settle down and have children, watch them play Quidditch at Hogwarts. He would never grow old. He was forever frozen at seventeen. Just like Catherine and Patrick, he was another victim of He Who Must Not Be Named.

He would be avenged. They would all be avenged.

Even if it was the last thing she ever did.


End file.
